it's vintage sufjan stevens and she
is the girl
with penny loafer fingernails.
the girl who
sometimes wants to tell you
she's in love with you.
the words float inside her brain
as
All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands,
plays softly from the corner of the room.
It's another new year
and
fireworks sound in the dark.
The older dog crawls underneath the bed,
and she is the girl
who,
for now,
will keep these words
for her friends,
her family,
her dogs,
and will save them from you,
until she is ready.
Until they feel as natural as her breath,
and fall from her lips
as easily as if
they had always been there.
as quietly as the familiar words to a song,
finding their way across the room.
as powerful as fireworks,
exploding with the stars.
she hears the snow start to hit
the trees outside.
the storm they've been waiting for.
she inhales deeply
and braces for all that's to come.
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